Xerarch?: The bus driver has a death-wish... for us all...

Sunday, March 05, 2006

The bus driver has a death-wish... for us all...

I made it though.
I'm back home in Sriracha, here to sit and think and consider my time down south. It was a little bit rough (the ride home), but I made it, and I guess I'm up to 32 hours of no sleep. Rock'n'roll. I'mma go get a coffee from 'EA Sriracha', and then gremm-out with some motosai taxi guys, maybe 'len' a bit of chess... take them to town.
So yeah, until my next post, do take care... more than I did on that bus ride... and I'll see you in an ever decreasing amount of time.
Kyle.

1 Comments:

At 10:11 AM, Jessica said...: I do hope that I get to hear this story about the bus ride of death. I'm incredibly glad that you are ok though. Journeys in Thailand certainly can be sketchy at the best of times. Enjoy what time you have left friend...soak it in, relax, reflect, and learn about the beautiful people around you.
You're Lovely.

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: Name: Kyle; Location: Abbotsford, Canada

Name's Kyle, I travel, play music, read classic literature, and study geomorphology and anthropology. Yes sir.

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The problem with selflessness is that I donât get anything
Iâve been here for 48 hours and all Iâve incurred is damage
The problem with patience is that I donât get anywhere
I got up and left nearly two days ago and it feels like Iâm just where I started
In 402 my paper 1 is 30% done
I take a break for safety sake So I don't become numb to you
I stare at walls, grey concrete walls, I'm hoping they don't fall
But it's too late, they fade away, I'm 30% done, don't call
But stop, it feels like I forgot something
Something's missing, something's transparent or missing
In 402 my paper 1 is 60% done
I caught a glimpse, one small instant of why I've become numb to you
I stare at screens, I'm losing sleep, I'm hoping I don't fall
But it's too late, I fade away, I'm 60% done, don't call
But stop, it feels like I forgot something
Something's missing, something's transparent or missing
In 402, my paper done, 100% done, 100% done
And everything becomes nothing, and everything is missing because notheing is missing
It's all still right here, all still right here
Lying here beside you and watching the blood flow
From the place I struck you, on your head I struck you
And dreaming of the days
On Sundays and Tuesdays
When we prayed for sun rays
For us to dance in, but anyways
Your face here beside me, as white as a bed sheet
Your mouth slightly open, your blue eyes have faded
There seems to be no one on the empty mountain
And yet I think I hear a voice
Where sunlight entering a grove
Shines back to me from the green moss
I open my eyes and start breathing again
White fabric hangs limp
Smooth red surface reflects as the fire descends in its fashion
A push, please a push
That your vessel may ride
Cut through glass like a knife forced by billions of atoms
But silent it stays, no white flights overhead
Still the mirror reflects while the red fades into black
Canât find your way back
Start feeling your lack
Some being above with a sword of a spear this black cover has pierced
And one by one millions of little white dots appear
Shimmering, glimmering, proving his greatness
Showing his face to you
And all of a sudden your destination is much less important than his presence
Yesterday was a good day but today is not
Youâll make tomorrow like yesterday wonât you God
I donât mean to yell but I really am quite upset
Arenât you supposed to make everything perfect?
I read your promise
I shouldnât worry but I kinda like it when things are easy
The flowers of the field
It says here youâve clothed them
But they neednât deal with human emotion
Anyways I just thought Iâd bring you this complaint
Iâll just wait here while you make things perfect again
Listen dear child
Iâll walk you through hard times when you give up and you place your hand in mine
The sky once blue, now grey has turned
This is new for me
Itâs something Iâm not used to
But itâs strangely familiar as a distant memory held over from a past life
Once lived in joy
For now I am Xerarch, a life lived in the desert
Itâs all I know
All I can feel
All I can see and taste
But his will is not for this
The clouds are breaking out across the sky as we scream from the ground
Wonât you come back down?
Itâs the silence that makes it far too angry for our own own good
Thereâs nothing we could do
And I lie in waiting
Will you come to me tonight?
This angel lost his wings
Overhead there floats a cumulonimbus
Ominous and disturbing
Cold and uncomfortable
Grey and lifeless
Looking up, itâs still waiting
I think it might rain
It wonât be long
A mighty anvil in the forges of heaven
And the Blacksmith?
He just picked up his hammer
Close my eyes so maybe I wonât feel the pain
Sacrificing everything to live again
Hammer falls and down below its starts to rain

Sunday, March 05, 2006

The bus driver has a death-wish... for us all...

1 Comments:

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